That Glass-Throated Woman
By Emily Ruth Hazel*
(Note: if you missed the introduction to this series, be sure to read it first.)
I am that woman, thirsty
for more than she can carry.
Trudging to the well, she wears a shawl
of shame. The unforgiving
sun beats down. Noon
in desert country: the loneliest
hour, the one time her shadow
does not overtake her and cannot
cling to her like a stain. Day
after dusty day, she plunges
her vessel of clay into the cool dark
at the bottom, yearning to taste
something deeper, to feel
the fullness of enough.
I am that blood-weary woman,
hungry for touch, desperate
to be healed. She presses through
the crowd, muscling her way
so she will not have to ask.
Her arms and fingers strain
as the blackened bones
of a tree burned bare
reach for heaven’s blue hem.
I am that woman, warrior
without a wall, the sky behind her
holding up her silhouette.
When they drag her into the harsh
light, she turns away from
men who stare at her
as if she is the only one
who has ever warmed her hands
too close to a forbidden fire. She holds
her head. Her eyes are stones
never to be thrown.
I am that glass-throated woman,
breaking open, pouring out her alabaster
heart. Claiming with her tears
the ground on which she has been
told, in so many loud
and wordless ways, not to stand
or kneel or fall or put her fears
to sleep—she lets herself
be seen, be heard, release
the aroma of her well-spent
story. The scent suggests
all that made her who she is, the places
from which she has been gathered,
like a nation once exiled from
herself. Powerful—no chance of being
bottled up again, the fragrance of her
life transforms the air.
To view this video on YouTube or watch other performances by Emily Ruth Hazel click here.
*An earlier and much different version of this poem was published in Emily Ruth Hazel’s first poetry collection, Body & Soul (Finishing Line Press).
Bio: Emily Ruth Hazel is a Los Angeles-based writer and cross-pollinator who is passionate about diversifying the audience for poetry. Her work wrestles with the tensions and complexities of faith, identity, and relationships. Her first poetry collection, Body & Soul, was published by Finishing Line Press as a New Women’s Voices finalist. Her poems have also appeared in anthologies, magazines, and literary journals and have been featured on a jazz album and in a science museum exhibition. Emily is currently working on two new book manuscripts and co-writing lyrics for an original musical. In her spare time, she enjoys hiking in the mountains, playing street hockey, dancing in her kitchen, and getting lost in botanical gardens. For samples of her work, invitations to performances, and more on what inspires her, you can follow her at Facebook.com/EmilyRuthHazel.
Song choice: “My Song” by Alessia Cara
Why: It’s a confident declaration that authenticity has lasting value. As someone who struggles with embracing her own imperfections, I love how, instead of masking her flaws, Alessia Cara allows her humanness to show through. And it’s subversive in a refreshing way. When she sings, “Good girls don’t make history,” I don’t think it’s about moral choices but about being socialized to behave according to a narrow definition of what others think a girl or woman “should” be or do. Her song empowers us to claim and stay true to our own voices even when pressured to conform: “. . . that’s what they ask of me / Just stick to this melody and stay between the lines / But I’ll . . . ring the bells and crash the cymbals / . . . I won’t fear and I can’t blend in / You can’t replace me and you cannot erase me.” That’s what strength sounds like to me.
Listen to the Stronger playlist here.
Catch up on all of the Stronger posts:
When We Roar by Amanda Macadam
Finally by Jessica Lacy Driscoll
Model and Empower by Lydia Lockhart
Courage to Be Me by Jen Ip
The Double-Edged Sword of Strength by Sarah Cruz